


See No Evil

by must_be_a_writer



Series: No Evil [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Crime, Gen, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:19:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5958583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/must_be_a_writer/pseuds/must_be_a_writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team is summoned to Boston by Agent Emily Prentiss, who is desperate to catch a brutal sadist before he strikes again. But as they dig into the life of a recent victim, they realize that not everything is as it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _This all started as a "what-if" that popped into my head, where, instead of joining the BAU, Prentiss was running a field office in some random city and had to call on the team for help with a case. And so, this story was born. Set during season 3, the only difference being Elle never left._

_Boston, Massachusetts_

"Agent Hotchner?"

He turns at his name, and is immediately face-to-face with a serious brunette, one of the law enforcement personnel in attendance at the Serial Crimes seminar that he and Dave were asked (i.e. forced) by the Bureau to present.

He actually remembers seeing her in the audience. Clearly impatient (he's sure he wasn't the only one that noticed her foot tapping against the leg of her chair), but still hanging on every word. As he expected, she has a thick case-file in her hands. Impromptu consults are par for the course at these events.

"What can I help you with, Miss…"

"Prentiss," she supplies. "Agent Emily Prentiss. I head up the field office here in Boston."

That stuns him for a moment, and it must show on his face because she actually rolls her eyes. It's part annoyance, part resignation. "Over a year into this, and I get the same reaction every time," she remarks.

"I apologize, Agent Prentiss," he says, feeling thoroughly chastised. "I meant no offense. Now, what was it that you needed?"

She hands him the file, clears her throat. "I'd appreciate it if you and Agent Rossi would look this over," she starts. "We've got six victims over the past nine months. He keeps them for two weeks, then dumps them. All tortured extensively; all young, blonde females."

"Nine months?" His eyebrows go up. "And you're just bringing this to our attention now?"

Prentiss folds her arms over her chest, her defenses going up. "Prior to the last two victims, there were no links between the cases. The first four were all high risk victims; prostitutes and junkies. Boston P.D. only made the connection because DNA evidence linked this latest case to one of the previous victims. When the case came across my desk, it only contained those two girls. I did a little digging and found the other four."

He nods as he skims through the file, then realizes that something doesn't add up. "How did this come across your desk, exactly?" he asks. "This doesn't read as the sort of case that would immediately get handed over to the FBI."

She looks down, starts picking at her fingernails. It's a nervous tic if he's ever seen one. "Our latest victim is none other than Emma Portman."

Oh God. "Please tell me she's not Senator Portman's daughter."

"His _only_ daughter, to be exact," Prentiss confirms. "He wants this case solved yesterday, and the lead detective got tired of his abilities being called into question. So, they handed the case, pushy politician included, over to me."

"I see." He closes the file, looks up at her. "Agent Rossi and I can review the case in detail tonight, and have a preliminary profile on your desk before we leave. Once I've had time to look the case over thoroughly, I'll send you a more detailed profile."

"Actually, Agent Hotchner," she says, "I don't believe we have time for that. When you examine the specifics of the case, you'll see that each girl went missing no more than a month after the previous victim's body was dumped. And Emma Portman, was abducted only twelve days after Kerri Henning's body was discovered."

He understands the urgency, the impatience, now. "You think the UNSUB may already have victim number seven."

Prentiss nods. "Even if he doesn't, he's got his eyes on her as we speak." There's a desperation in her voice that he hadn't picked up on before. "I can't catch this guy on my own," she admits. "Not before another body drops, anyway. I need your team on this investigation. I can handle the politics, if that helps," she adds.

That actually does. He'll have to check with J.J., make sure they don't have another case pending, but he thinks maybe they can swing it. "I can't promise anything," he tells her, "but I'll see what I can do."

* * *

_FBI Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia_

J.J. is packed to leave and is almost out the door when the phone rings. She considers ignoring it, but her conscience won't let her. If someone's calling this late at night, it's probably urgent. She sets her purse down and picks up the phone.

"Behavioral Analysis Unit, Agent Jareau speaking."

"J.J., glad I caught you." It's Hotch. Definitely urgent. "Is the rest of the team still there?"

"Morgan left about an hour ago, but everyone else is still here," she tells him. "Why? What's going on?"

"We're needed in Boston," he says. "I'm faxing the details of the case to you now."

She tries not to sigh audibly. There goes yet another weekend with Will down the drain. "When do we leave?"

"First thing in the morning," Hotch tells her. "And come directly to the Boston field office. We'll have everything set up by the time you get here."

"Got it," she says. "See you in the morning."

Elle and Garcia are discussing weekend plans when she steps into the bullpen a few minutes later, case-file in hand. She catches the tail end of their conversation, something about a ladies' night.

Garcia's the first to spot her. "Hey, Jayje, got any plans for the weekend?"

She holds up the file apologetically. She hates this part. "I do now," she says. "Sorry, guys. We're needed in Boston first thing tomorrow."

To their credit, they're all business almost immediately. Garcia looks at her curiously. "Do we have I.D.'s on any of the victims?"

"All of them," J.J. says, handing her the list of names.

"Awesome," she replies. "I'll start running those now. If we're lucky, something will pop by the morning."

"Call Morgan, too, while you're at it," J.J. requests. "Tell him we're meeting on the jet at six."

"Boston, huh?" Elle asks. "If it's this pressing, I'm surprised we're not leaving tonight."

J.J. shrugs. "So am I, honestly, but Hotch said to get some rest. I'm guessing we're gonna need it."

* * *

_BAU Jet, en route to Boston, MA_

Derek's beyond grateful that Garcia caught him before he partied too hard last night, because trying to piece together the details of this case while dealing with a hangover would be next to impossible.

"We're missing something here," he remarks, earning curious looks from J.J. and Reid.

Elle nods. "I was thinking the same thing," she says. "The first victim, Wendy West; her murder seems too…" She pauses for a moment. "Sophisticated for a first kill, especially from a sexual sadist."

"That's a good point," Reid agrees. "A first kill would be messier, less organized. A killer, even an organized one, has to evolve to this level of restraint and control. We should have Garcia look into all unsolved cases in and around Boston going back at least five years."

"I'll get her on it the minute we land," Morgan says. He turns to J.J. "You said that we're coordinating with the local FBI on this case. Why'd Boston P.D. give it up?"

J.J. sighs. "Hotch says that the most recent victim found is a Senator's daughter. P.D. couldn't handle the politics, so they handed the case over to Agent Prentiss."

Elle groans. "That's just what we need. An emotionally invested politician trying to run the show."

"From the sounds of it, Prentiss will be handling most of the politics on this one," J.J. says, shrugging. "I guess she has a lot of experience with politicians."

Morgan's eyebrows go up, he can't help it. "She?"

J.J. nods. "Yeah. Agent Emily Prentiss. She's been running the Boston field office for over a year now. So, maybe try to not act so surprised when you meet her." She grins a little. "Apparently, Hotch managed to offend her in less than thirty seconds."

They all laugh before turning serious again. "So," Elle says, almost conversationally, "what do we know about sexual sadists?"

* * *

_FBI Field Office, Boston, MA_

Emily is in her office, just getting off the phone with Detective Hartman when the rest of the BAU team walks into her bullpen. She steps out to greet them, and immediately understands why Rossi jokingly referred to them as an island of misfit toys. They're the oddest combination of agents she's ever seen, but as long as they're as good as they're rumored to be, she couldn't give a damn.

The blonde that's leading the pack approaches her, hand outstretched. "Hi, Agent Prentiss? We spoke on the phone this morning?"

She remembers. She also remembers wondering who on earth could be that perky at 5am. "Of course," she says, shakes her hand. "You must be Agent Jareau."

The blonde nods. "But, please, call me J.J." She gestures to the rest of her team. "These are Agents Morgan and Greenaway, and Dr. Spencer Reid."

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Emily says. "Agents Hotchner and Rossi are already set up in one of our conference rooms. We were just waiting on you to get started."

Morgan steps up beside her as she leads them to their room. "We've got a theory about the case that I think you should know right away."

She nods. "Go on."

"We don't think Wendy West is our UNSUB's first victim," Reid pipes up.

Emily sighs. It's frustrating to think that she missed something so vital to the case. "We came to the same conclusion this morning. Agent Rossi says your technical analyst is already searching for other potential victims."

"We know he's got a type," Greenaway says. "Blonde haired, blue eyed females, late teens to mid-twenties. That narrows it down some."

"True," she agrees. "But that's still a lot of unsolveds to weed through."

Morgan flashes her a quick grin. "If anyone can do it, it's Garcia," he says confidently. "She's the best there is."

Emily believes it. Usually, she's a little more skeptical, but she'd been privy to Rossi and Garcia's conversation earlier, and the bubbly analyst had set her mind at ease. It's almost scary, really, how much she's already unearthed about their known victims.

She notices the change in atmosphere the moment they step into the conference room with Hotchner and Rossi. It reminds her of Academy cadets in the presence of their T.O.

Hotchner steps away from the whiteboard where he'd been examining their timeline. He gives Emily a quick nod, then addresses his team. "As you all know, we have a serious situation here. We need to move quickly to prevent more bodies.

"Reid you're going to stay here with me, work on a geographical profile while I work victimology."

He turns to the other agents. "Elle, one of Prentiss' agents will escort you to the coroner's office. He's waiting for you with Emma Portman's body. Morgan, you and Rossi examine the dumpsite, and then you're going to meet Detective Adam Hartman at Emma's apartment; see what you can learn from both scenes."

"And me?" J.J. asks.

Emily clears her throat. "You and I are going to be conducting interviews with the victims' families. Wendy West's grandparents and brother will be here within the hour."

"In the meantime, I'd like you to prepare a press release," Hotchner says. "But I'd like to wait until we have more information to release it."

They all spring into action immediately, and Emily can't help but feel relieved. She did the right thing, bringing them here. They were going to catch this guy.


	2. Chapter 2

_City Morgue, Boston, MA_

The question Elle gets asked most about her job is if seeing dead bodies ever gets easier.

Her professional opinion? It doesn't

The coroner leads her to Emma Portman's body, shakes his head sadly. "I never imagined I'd see anything like this, and now she's the second one in less than two months that I've had to…" He trails off momentarily, clears his throat. "Sorry."

Elle shrugs it off, checks her file. "You performed Kerri Henning's autopsy as well?" she asks.

He nods. "I noticed the similarities almost immediately. A body like this?" He shudders. "It's not something you forget."

"Did you find any signs of sexual assault on either victim?" she asks.

"Surprisingly, no," he tells her.

She nods, writes it down. "And cause of death?"

"Ligature strangulation." He beckons her closer to the body. "See the pattern of the bruising around her neck?"

Elle examines the marks. "Looks like rope?"

"That was my theory," he says. "But do you see how the bruises cross, right here in the front?"

She nods. "It looks like her killer stood facing her, one end of the rope in each hand and pulled."

"Does that mean something to you?" the coroner asks.

Elle nods grimly. "It wasn't enough for him to kill her. He wanted to watch the life leave her eyes."

* * *

_FBI Headquarters, Quantico, VA_

Penelope is certain that she's dying of boredom by the time her phone finally rings again. She doesn't even check the caller id, just snatches the phone from the cradle.

"You guys can't keep leaving me alone for that long," she laments, not caring who's on the other line. "It's not nice."

Elle laughs. "Pen, you're always alone when we're on a case. You've never complained about it before."

"You know what I mean, smartypants" she retorts. "When you go so long between phone calls, I get lonely. I feel like you're forgetting me."

"Trust me, Garcia, no one could ever forget you," Elle says. "Now, get those magic fingers ready; I've got some info that should help narrow down the potential victim search."

"Oh thank God," Garcia says, sitting up straighter in her chair. "Ready and waiting, what've you got?"

"Flag any cases where cause of death was strangulation," she starts.

Garcia nods. "Manual or ligature?" she asks.

"Our guy has been using rope, but look into both," she says. "The rope might be part of his evolution. Also, rule out cases involving sexual assault. None of our known victims have shown any signs of sexual assault, and that's not something that you suddenly _stop_ doing."

"Got it," Garcia says, already narrowing her search parameters. "Anything else, my lovely?"

"Just that for now," Elle tells her. "You have any potentials yet?"

"You'll know when I do," she says. "Over and out."

Elle's call must give her the magic she needed, because it's less than an hour before something promising pops up on her screen. "Jinkies," she mutters, reading through the file. "Garcy, I think you've done it."

* * *

_Emma Portman's Apartment, Boston, MA_

The dump site had been nothing special; an alley between a dry cleaners and a condemned apartment building. Easy to access with a vehicle, deserted at night, with no security cameras in sight. A location of convenience, probably scoped out in advance, but inconspicuously so as to avoid suspicion.

Emma Portman's apartment building is the complete opposite. As they pull up to the curb, Rossi notices at least three neighbors with large dogs. The building itself boasts an expensive security system, and the high end club down the street ensures that the area would be well-lit at night.

"Hard to believe that someone could snatch Emma from a place like this with no one noticing," Morgan comments, voicing Rossi's thoughts out loud.

He merely shrugs. "Stranger things have happened though, haven't they?"

"Too true, man."

Prentiss had sent word that Detective Hartman had beat them there, so they flash their badges to the doorman and head up to Emma's third floor apartment. They find the detective staring out of the living room window, his back to the door.

Rossi knocks on the doorframe, startling the man. He whirls around, his hand going to the gun holstered at his side. He relaxes when they hold up their badges, lets out a loud sigh.

"Sorry 'bout that," he says. "Guess my nerves are a little on edge lately."

"No harm, no foul," Morgan says. "I'm Derek Morgan, this is Dave Rossi."

"With the BAU, yeah," Hartman says, stepping forward to shake their hands. "Prentiss said you guys are the best, but honestly, I don't know what you can find out about Emma's killer from this place that CSU hasn't already found."

Rossi starts walking the scene, pulling on gloves as he goes. "Profiling is less about physical evidence than it is simply studying behavior. Now, the apartment hasn't been altered in any way, has it?"

Hartman shakes his head. "Aside from CSU doing their thing, we're the only ones that have been in here since Emma was abducted."

"And you were the one that first discovered she was missing, correct?" Morgan asks from where he's examining the bookshelf.

"Yes, sir," Hartman says, nodding. "I've been a friend of the family for a few years now, and the Senator asked me to come check on Emma when he hadn't heard from her in a few days."

Rossi and Morgan exchange a look. "Were you aware of anyone new in Emma's life?" Rossi asks. "Anyone that could have possibly done this to her?"

Hartman's eyes widen. "You think that Emma might have known her killer?"

"It's a possibility that we'll be looking into," Morgan says. "I look around this apartment, and I see no sign of a struggle, no signs of forced entry, which tells me that Emma knew, or at least trusted, her abductor."

"Not to mention, the trouble this guy went to to keep from standing out in this neighborhood," Rossi adds. "He could be afraid of being recognized by one of Emma's neighbors."

Detective Hartman nods. "There was this new guy she'd been seeing for a few months," he says. "Patrick O'Connell. He's second generation Irish; runs with a pretty rough crowd. I never trusted him, but Emma swore he was a good guy."

"Boston's known for its heavy Irish mafia presence," Morgan observes. "Is O'Connell connected to one of the crime families?"

Hartman sighs. "Not that I've been able to find, and trust me, I looked hard." He looks away. "But I guess I didn't look hard enough."

"You buy Hartman's story?" Morgan asks as they pull away from Emma's apartment building.

Rossi shrugs. "I'm having trouble believing that someone who is so close to the Portman family wouldn't be able to handle the politics of this case."

"I thought the same thing," Morgan says. "And he was pretty quick to steer us towards the Irish mafia. Personal vendetta you think?"

"It's possible," Rossi says. "None of this reads like organized crime, but it's still an angle we should pursue. If the boyfriend got involved with the wrong people, Emma's murder could have been revenge or a way to send a message."

Morgan shakes his head. "But that doesn't explain the other victims," he notes. "Five other murders, and almost a full year of set-up? That's a hell of a lot of trouble to go to just to cover up a revenge killing."

"I don't disagree," he says. "But one thing's for certain; we need to find Patrick O'Connell."


	3. Chapter 3

_FBI Field Office, Boston, MA_

Emily sighs, rubbing at her temples in an attempt to stave off her rapidly growing headache. She can hear J.J., just outside of her office, encouraging Denise Cabot's father to call them if he remembers something important.

The family interviews have been difficult, to say the least. Three of their victims had cut contact with their families long before their deaths, meaning that the families simply have no information to give. And Don Cabot had only learned that his daughter was a prostitute after her death.

J.J. steps back inside, letting out a breath as she slumps against the wall. "Well, that was…"

"A complete waste of time?" Emily supplies.

"Something like that," J.J. says, nodding. "We can't have learned nearly as much as we hoped we might."

Emily snorts. "Not by a longshot," she confirms. "And none of what we _did_ learn connects our victims in any way."

"Were you ever able to contact Kerri Henning's mother?" J.J. asks. "I know Hotch said you were having trouble locating her, but she could potentially give us the answers we need."

She shakes her head. "We're still working on it," she admits. "The last time anyone saw her was when she came in to identify Kerri's body. Her phone is shut off, and anytime we send someone to her home, there's no answer." She sighs again. "I talked to Hotchner about putting out an APB, but he thought that might be a little too drastic, so there's not much we can do right now. And Senator Portman isn't available until tomorrow, so we're done with interviews for today."

J.J. checks her watch. "We've still got some time to kill before we regroup. Want to check in with Hotch and Reid and then grab something to eat?"

"Sounds good to me," Emily says, stretching her back as she stands. "It'll be nice to get out of the office for a little while."

Reid and Hotchner are still studying their respective boards when they pop into the conference room a few minutes later. "Prentiss and I are going to get some food," J.J. says. "You guys want anything?"

They both shake their heads, and Emily's turning to leave when Reid speaks. "Something's off," he murmurs, almost to himself.

"What do you mean?" Emily asks, immediately on alert.

Reid turns to her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Emma Portman doesn't fit."

She steps closer to the map that he's been studying. "You're sure?"

"I noticed it, too," Hotchner says. "Aside from physical characteristics and cause of death, Emma doesn't have anything in common with the other victims. Her social and financial status is far above that of the others. The first four were all but living on the streets, and Kerri was working two jobs to pay her way through school."

"And Emma lived alone in an expensive apartment," J.J. says, nodding. "And I'm willing to bet she never had to work a day in her life."

"She's also the only outlier in the geographical profile," Reid adds. "If you look at the map, you can see that the first five abduction and dump sites are located within a five mile radius of Northeastern University."

"Makes sense," Emily comments. "Kerri Henning was a student there. We speculated that she was abducted while walking to her off-campus apartment after a late class."

"But Emma Portman lived in a high-end neighborhood clear on the other side of the city," Reid continues. "I had Garcia look into it, and she has no apparent connection to Northeastern. In fact, she was slated to start at Harvard in the fall."

Emily hummed. "It almost sounds like you're saying that Emma Portman isn't one of our UNSUB's victims."

"It's a possibility," Hotchner says, shrugging. "It's highly unlikely, given the physical similarities to the other victims and the nature of her death."

"A more likely explanation is that Emma was the UNSUB's intended target from the beginning, but he lacked the confidence needed to confront her," Reid says. "In that case, the earlier victims would not only be surrogates for Emma, but also a way to build his self-confidence so that he could go after the one he really wanted."

"Either way, we've got trouble," Emily says. "If Emma was his target all along, then he's accomplished what he set out to do, and finding him will be that much harder. He might not even be in Boston anymore."

"But if Emma's murder is unrelated to the others," Hotchner continues, "then we have two killers on our hands. One that's just getting started, and one that will do anything to keep his identity a secret."

* * *

_Murray's Diner, Boston, MA_

Will calls while they're out to dinner, and J.J. thanks God that Prentiss is the only one with her at the diner. It's not a long call (he's picked up a few shifts since she had to cancel), but there would definitely be no hiding from any of her team that she's seeing someone if any of them had been listening.

"Boyfriend?" Prentiss asks casually after she hangs up.

J.J. nods. "Long-distance," she clarifies. "We were supposed to spend the weekend together, but…"

Emily winces. "Sorry about that."

She shrugs. "It's not the first time we've had to cancel plans because of some psycho killer," she says. "And I know it won't be the last."

"One of the hazards of this job," Emily comments, shaking her head. "I honestly can't remember the last time I went on a date." She pauses. "Oh, no, wait I _can_ remember, I just try to block it from my memory as often as possible."

J.J. laughs. "That bad, huh?"

Emily considers the question. "Not at first," she admits. "Everything was going great until he found out I was FBI and ditched me halfway through dinner." She chuckles. "I later discovered that he had several outstanding warrants against him."

She nearly chokes on her tomato soup trying not to laugh at that one. They spend the rest of their short dinner exchanging dating horror stories, and by the time Emily's signaling the waitress for their checks, J.J.'s mood has brightened considerably.

They're just getting into the Suburban to head back to the office when J.J. gets another call, this time from Hotch. "Are you heading back soon?" he asks without preamble.

"We're on our way now," she says. "We'll be ten, fifteen minutes, max. Why, what's up?"

"Garcia's got something."

* * *

_FBI Field Office, Boston, MA_

Morgan and Rossi make it back to the field office just moments before J.J. and Prentiss. The rest of the team is congregated in their conference room, apparently waiting for them to arrive.

"What's going on?" he asks, noting the air of urgency in the room.

"Am I good to go, Sir?" Garcia asks, her voice crackling a little through the phone's speaker.

"Everyone's here, Garcia," Hotch says. "Go ahead."

"Okay, I'll start with the good news," she says. "I've been searching through recent missing persons reports, and so far, there's nothing that matches our guy's M.O."

"What's the bad news?" Elle asks warily.

"Alright, this is where things get a little complicated," Garcia starts. "Based on what Elle learned from the coroner, I was able to find three unsolved cases that fit the victim profile. Melissa Jacobs, a seventeen year old runaway, was found beaten and strangled in an alley just blocks from Northeastern University. Kylie Harris was a drug addict that was found in a park that's less than a mile from Kerri Henning's apartment. And then we have Naomi Pierce; a prostitute that frequented the same blocks as Wendy West and Denise Cabot."

"So, what's the complication? Rossi asks.

"From where they fit on the timeline, Naomi Pierce and Kylie Harris appear to be the first two victims, killed about five and three months prior to Wendy West respectively," Garcia explains. "But, Melissa Jacob's body was found only _one day_ before Emma Portman's."

Morgan sighs. "So, either our UNSUB had both girls at the same time," he says. "Or one of them was killed by a copycat with intimate knowledge of the other crimes."

"Dig deeper into all of our victims' lives, Garcia," Hotch says. "And inform us immediately if you get any hits through missing persons."

"Your wish, my command," she replies. "I'm faxing the case files to Prentiss' office as we speak. I'll call you if I find anything new tonight. Garcia out."

"How do we approach this, Hotch?" Morgan asks once she's hung up.

Hotch sighs. "Elle, call the coroner and ask him to look over Emma's body again; see if there's anything he missed. Let him know that you and Reid will be meeting with him first thing in the morning, and ask him to have Melissa Jacob's autopsy on hand as well." He pauses for a moment, deliberates. "For now, we continue with the assumption that Emma Portman was killed by our UNSUB. I suggest that we all head to the hotel and get some rest."

"What about me and my team?" Prentiss asks.

Hotch turns to her. "We need to solidify our profile, but we'll be ready to present it in the morning. It would be helpful to invite Boston P.D. to hear the profile so that they can be on the lookout as well."

Morgan watches Prentiss as the rest of the team packs up to leave. She's perched on the table in the conference room, poring over the new case files. He nudges Rossi, then nods to Prentiss. "You think she's gonna get any sleep tonight?"

"Not a chance," Rossi says. "But, then again, neither will we."

* * *

Hotch isn't surprised in the slightest to find that Prentiss is already in the conference room when he arrives in the morning. She's even in the exact spot they left her the night before, and he's willing to bet that she slept in her office. (She may not be wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but he knows from experience with Elle and J.J. that most, if not all, female agents keep a spare set of clothes at work.)

Elle and Reid had gone straight to the coroner's office from the hotel, and the rest of the team is off in search of much needed caffeine, so Hotch takes the opportunity to talk to Prentiss alone. She barely acknowledges him when he comes to lean against the table beside her, just a bob of the head to indicate she's aware of his presence. She's focused on the photographs of the victims they'd added the night before, and he knows that they kept her up last night.

It's in the set of her shoulders, the rigid tension of her posture. It's in the creases in her forehead and the way she rolls her eyes when he asks how she slept.

"I didn't," she admits softly. "Not for very long, anyway." She nods at the board. "They wouldn't let me."

Hotch understands, knows the team would, too. Sleep rarely comes easy with the job they have, and certain cases stick more than others. He wants to say something, anything to erase the shadows of guilt from her eyes. Like how it's only because of her that they're here in the first place. Or that 90 percent of the time they don't find all of an UNSUB's victims.

Instead, he asks if she's found anything new. Prentiss shakes her head. "Not really," she says. "Only, the more I look at it, the more I'm convinced that our UNSUB didn't kill Emma Portman."

"We kept coming back to the same thing while we were finalizing the profile," Hotch says. He checks his watch. "Speaking of, have you contacted Boston P.D. yet?"

She shakes her head again. "I can make a call to Captain Lehane," she says. "Have him and some detectives over here in…half an hour?"

Hotch nods. "Do that," he says. "We're waiting on Elle and Reid to get back from the morgue, and I'd like to check in with Garcia before giving the profile, but have your people ready as well."

Rossi wanders in as Prentiss heads to her office, hands Hotch a cup of coffee. "She here all night?" he asks, before downing what must be half of his own cup in one go.

Hotch sips his own coffee, grateful that the no intra-team profiling rule doesn't apply to this. "Didn't ask," he says. "Didn't have to." He ignores the satisfied grin on Rossi's face for as long as possible before giving in. "Spit it out, Dave." If they're going to do this, he thinks, at least they're alone.

"It's nothing," Rossi says, the innocence in his voice betraying that it's anything but. "It's just that most LEOs are pretty open books," he says. "But not this one. And yet, you're going out of your way to get a read on her." He smirks. "Some might start to wonder why…"

He figures denial is the best way to go here. Because it's the truth. "You're out of your mind," he says firmly. "I'm just making sure that her head is in the right place."

Rossi raises his hands in surrender, goes back to his coffee. He obviously hasn't let it go though, because a few minutes later he comments, "She's pretty."

He's noticed. He's not blind. But he's also not stupid enough to comment. It's just his luck that Morgan and J.J. come in at just that moment.

"Who's pretty?" Morgan asks, an amused smile on his face.

"Prentiss," Rossi and J.J. chorus, and Morgan nods, his grin widening. Hotch sighs. Where's Reid and his obliviousness when you need him?

He doesn't rise to their bait, just shoots them a stern look before turning back to the boards. "Let's focus on the case, shall we?"


	4. Chapter 4

_City Morgue, Boston, MA_

The coroner meets Reid and Elle at the door and ushers them down to the morgue. The bags under his eyes indicate that he slept about as much as they did the night before, if at all, and Reid has to jog to keep up with him.

When they reach the morgue, the coroner steps into his office for a moment and returns with a file. "First things first," he starts, "I went over Melissa Jacobs' autopsy last night, like you asked. Her body has already been returned to her family, but everything in that file leads me to believe that she is one of your killer's victims. And there's something in there that you definitely need to see." He hands the file to Elle, who starts flipping through it immediately.

"Whoa," Elle murmurs. "Is this for real?"

Reid peers over her shoulder and scans the page she's reading. "He mutilated her genitals?"

The coroner nods. "Yes. That's something new, right?" he asks. "He hasn't done that to any of the other victims?"

Reid shakes his head, exchanging a grim look with Elle. "His rage is escalating, and so is his timetable. He's spending less and less time with each victim."

"Speaking of victims," the coroner says, "I reexamined Emma's body and found something I'd missed." He leads them to the table where Emma Portman is laid out, and pulls on a pair of gloves. He beckons them closer and picks up her arm, turning it to show them one of her wounds.

"When I was going over the autopsies, I found similar wounds on all of the victims, which you'd probably expect." He sets the arm down for a moment, brings up pictures on the monitor of four nearly identical wounds. "Now, these are all from victims of your killer." He shows them Emma's arm again. "Do you see the difference?"

Reid and Elle both nod. "Emma's is smaller," Elle says. "Cleaner, too. Not nearly as jagged as the others."

The coroner nods. "That's because I believe that Emma's wounds were inflicted post-mortem. The rough, jagged nature of the other victims' wounds indicates that they were alive and struggling when they were inflicted. Ante-mortem torture, fitting with your killer's MO. But not Emma's."

"Are you saying that you don't think Emma Portman is one of our killer's victims?" Reid asks.

He nods again. "All of her wounds, every laceration, every contusion, except for one were inflicted post-mortem. There's a single blow to the side of her head that likely rendered her unconscious, and of course the ligature marks around her neck. But I'm confident that everything else was done _after_ she was already dead."

Elle and Reid exchange another look. "We need to get back to the office," he says. "Update the team." He looks to the coroner again. "Was there anything more that you had to tell us?"

"No," he says. "Just that I hope you find these bastards."

"We could use your help with that," Elle says. "Could you make up a list of anyone that would have had access to Kerri Henning's body, or any of the previous victims' bodies? If someone is trying to pass Emma off as one of our victims, they would have had to have known about the murders first."

"I'll get right on that," he says. "I'll call you if I find anything."

"Thank you." Elle turns to Reid. "Let's go tell the others."

* * *

_FBI Field Office, Boston, MA_

The phone call with Captain Lehane is short and to the point. Emily has no doubt that he's already mustering the troops, so she makes her way to the bullpen to do the same.

She's waiting on one of her senior agents at his desk when she notices that Reid and Greenaway have returned from the morgue. She makes eye contact with Hotchner through the conference room window, and he motions for her to join them.

"Hey, Pearson," she calls to one of her younger agents.

The young woman is at her side almost immediately. "Yeah, boss?"

"Could you round up everyone that's working the serial?" she asks. "Tell them the BAU team will be delivering the profile in about fifteen minutes."

Pearson trots off and Emily heads into the conference room, immediately picking up on the tense energy surrounding everyone.

"What did the coroner have to say?" she asks.

Reid clears his throat. "Emma Portman wasn't killed by our UNSUB," he says. "All of her wounds were inflicted post-mortem to make it look like she was."

Emily sighs. "So we have two killers on our hands."

"It's not ideal," Hotchner says. "But for now, let's focus on getting the profile out there. Is Captain Lehane on his way?"

She nods. "With his entire homicide department, if I know him." She glances out to the bullpen. "My people are ready, too."

"We're just waiting on the Captain, then," Hotchner says.

Emily nods again. "I'll let them know."

* * *

Hotch watches Prentiss brief her people for a moment before turning to Dave and Morgan. "I want the two of you to stay on the Portman case," he says. "She may not have been killed by our UNSUB, but someone wants us to believe that she was."

"We can start by trying to find the boyfriend," Dave says, then turns to J.J. "You said that the Senator is coming in to speak with Prentiss today?"

"Yeah," J.J. confirms, "sometime this afternoon."

Hotch nods. "Sit in on the interview, Dave," he says. "Learn what you can, but tread lightly. The last thing we need is for him to stonewall us."

A knock on the doorframe interrupts Dave's response. The young agent in the doorway shifts nervously. "Agent Hotchner? Captain Lehane and his men are here."

"Thank you," he says. "We'll be right out."

He gathers his notes and leads the way out of the room. All attention turns to them as the team files out behind him.

"Thank you all for coming," he starts. "We'll try to make this as brief as possible. The person we're looking for is a Caucasian male in his mid-twenties to early thirties. He's a loner, and he likely has very few friends or close personal relationships."

"He flies under the radar," Dave chimes in, "which is how he's been getting away with this for so long. People simply don't notice him. This is probably the case in his job as well, which he and others view as menial and unimportant."

"Our UNSUB is what we call a sexual sadist," Morgan says. "This means that he derives sexual pleasure from hurting others, hence the extensive torture that he subjects his victims to. The lack of sexual assault on the victims tells us that he's most likely impotent."

"A guy like this does not take rejection well," Elle adds. "He's got a type; young, blonde hair, blue eyes. So it's possible that he suffered a rejection from a woman fitting that description, and that these girls are surrogates for her. If that is the case, he will eventually seek her out as a target."

"It's important that we find this man quickly," Hotch says. "His violence and rage are escalating, and it's only a matter of time before he tries to abduct another girl. We'll be releasing this profile to the press later today, and we will keep your departments up to date as the investigation progresses. Thank you."

J.J. turns to him as the crowd disperses. "I'm going to revise my press release and start contacting the local media."

"Good," Hotch says. "When will you be ready to go live?"

J.J. checks her watch. "Two o'clock should work," she says. "That way it can run on the evening news." She starts to leave, then turns back to him. "Hotch? How do you want to address Emma Portman?"

"Don't mention her yourself. Keep your answers vague if someone asks about her," he says. "The last thing we need is for her killer to realize that we're onto him."

"Got it," she says, nodding. "I'll let you know when I'm ready."

Prentiss wanders up as J.J. leaves. "I just got a call from Senator Portman's aide," she tells him. "He should be here within the hour."

"Would you let us know when he arrives?" he asks. "Rossi and Morgan are going to continue to investigate Emma's murder, and I'd like for one of them to sit in on the interview."

She nods. "No problem." Her gaze wanders for a moment, finally settles on the photos of their victims. "I can't help but wonder what would have happened if I'd realized what was going on sooner," she says softly. "How many of those girls we could have saved."

"There's no way you could have known," he tells her. "And focusing on the 'what-if's isn't going to help us solve this case. We need to focus on catching a killer. We'll get justice for them when we catch him."

Prentiss hesitates for a moment. "Do you think we can catch this guy before he hurts another girl?"

He wishes he could say yes. "I don't know," he admits. "But I hope to God that we do."


End file.
